


Anthony J. Crowley's Worst Week Ever

by VerdantVulpus



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: A Statistically Improbable Amount of Sexual Mishaps, Bondage, Book Hos Before Demon Bros, Coitus Interruptus, Comedy, Did I Mention This Is Based On Another Fic, Erotic Slapstick, Farce, He's Immortal and This Is Farce, Humor, Humour, Ineffable Stooges, Just An Epic Amount Of Cockblocking Really, M/M, Malicious 20th Century Sculpture, Oh no no no, Oh no!, Oops Didn't Use The Safeword, Outdoor Sex, Reckless Driving, Rough Sex, Sex in the Bentley, Sexual Mishaps, Shower Sex, The Universe is Out to Get Crowley, Universe 6-Crowley's Dick 0, Zero NonCon, adventurous Aziraphale, don't be mad, physical comedy, physical injury, read the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25963132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantVulpus/pseuds/VerdantVulpus
Summary: Aziraphale wanted to be more adventurous, and Crowley very much wanted to cooperate but absolutely nothing goes right for the demon. It's as if he'd been cursed by a flat of banana peels. Crowley was starting to think he might have been safer in Hell!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 103





	Anthony J. Crowley's Worst Week Ever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedRoseWhite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRoseWhite/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Ben Solo's Worst Week Ever](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24007651) by [RedRoseWhite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRoseWhite/pseuds/RedRoseWhite). 



> There is a scene where forceful sex ends not because of safeword use but because of escalating use of powers
> 
> This is a farce and in one scene Aziraphale forgets to safeword because he thinks his books are in mortal sex danger. Things that are maybe a bit different for immortal ineffable beings than they would be for regular humans. Please don't look to these two idiots for perfectly executed play at all times because they are very clever but also canonically very very stupid.

Sunday:

It had started as a simple walk in the park. It had been a nice day. The sun was hot but there was enough of a breeze to keep them comfortable, and to lift Aziraphale’s curls in little bouts of dancing that made Crowley smile. The angel held his arm, squeezing affectionately, and giggling to himself every now and then.

“What are you chortling about?” Crowley smirked, finally at the end of his rope with this secretive laughter. Aziraphale smiled and tucked his face against Crowley’s shoulder, but the demon had already seen the pink flush across those lovely cheeks.

“Out with it, Angel,” he purred. “Your pretty blush is just making me more curious.”

“I’ve been thinking about this book I read last week,” Aziraphale murmured in a hushed, excited tone and Crowley rolled his eyes, already losing interest. “There was a chapter about using spontaneity and adventure to liven up lovemaking and I admit, I’ve been going over it in my mind quite a bit.”

Crowley’s interest was recaptured. “Ooh!” he hooted quietly against Aziraphale’s ear, making him giggle again. “Naughty Angel! I’m ever so proud. Tell me, please, how to best encourage this thought process into action.”

Because it had seemed like a great idea at the time. It really had.

Aziraphale apparently had been giving this some thought. He led Crowley to a somewhat secluded part of the park where the grass was longer, whipping up a quick glamour to hide them from mortal senses. A thick blanket was summoned and Crowley was naked before he had much time to think it over with a sweet, wiggly angel fucking himself on his fingers while Crowley watched, enraptured, and stroked himself to readiness. 

Aziraphale’s eyes were dark with lust, his lips wet and parted as he worked himself open, staring at Crowley as he grunted and moaned and _shit_ it had to be the hottest fucking thing the demon had seen in 6000 years. 

Crowley was slick and ready but Aziraphale was, perhaps, overexcited and launched himself at the demon in a tackle. Crowley squawked as he was thrown backwards, off the blanket, his arse and back falling in the soft grass. 

“Eager, are we?” he laughed. 

Aziraphale was. He lined Crowley up and took him without a word, and Crowley rolled his head back, enjoying the sun on his chest, and the arse on his hips until something bit against his lower back. Crowley tightened his eyes, ignoring the intrusion on his pleasure but it came again, more intensely. He winced, his eyes flying open as the burn started to flare out across his lower back and hips. 

“Ah! What the FuUUCK!” he shouted, writhing to get away from the pain. 

“Ooh Oh! Yes YES Crowley! Just like that, dear!” Aziraphale cried out in pleasure above him and shoved him back down.

“Mongoose! MONGOOSE!” Crowley screeched their safeword, clambering up and all but tossing the angel back on the blanket. Aziraphale’s eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed, but Crowley was far more concerned about his skin being on fire. He twisted around on the blanket, flailing at his skin with his hands. Aziraphale finally clued in.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, taking in Crowley’s sorry state, before more closely examining their surroundings with an added, “Oh dear.”

Nettles. Aziraphale had fucked him back into a patch of Stinging. Fucking. Nettles.

The agony ended with a simple healing miracle (by the angel, since Crowley couldn’t manage to concentrate enough to manage one), but their romp was ended too. They were both embarrassed, and Aziraphale was second guessing his new theory on spontaneity, annoyed with himself over Crowley’s injury, while the demon insisted they try again. He didn’t see why they couldn’t have some good yummy sex without him getting hurt. _He didn’t know better yet_. They argued briefly before Crowley snapped himself home to sulk for the rest of the day. (He still went to bed thinking about the angel.)

*****

  
  
  


Monday:

Crowley had calmed down enough to call Aziraphale in the morning and apologize for his temper. It was embarrassing, but maybe they could laugh about it...in a century or two.

The demon was still frustrated, riled up by the mere thought of a randy Aziraphale dreaming up sexy exploits. Definitely excellent fodder for a steamy shower wank. Crowley padded into the washroom and started the shower, stepping in once the water was perfect and closing his eyes as the heat melted some of the tension in his shoulders. 

He jumped in surprise when a pair of pale hands stroked up his narrow chest, but then Aziraphale’s scent surrounded him and he grinned, shaking water out of his golden eyes.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you, Angel?” he teased, turning to face smiling blue eyes.

“I really can’t,” Aziraphale whispered, pulling Crowley into a deep, soul-searing kiss. Crowley had already been half hard when he stepped into the shower but he was at full mast now, whimpering against the angel’s lips and tugging himself as water streamed over them both in lovely hot rivers. Thank Fucking Someone that he had opted for the massive walk in shower when he upgraded his flat. He turned Aziraphale around and roughly pressed the angel against the smooth grey tiled wall. 

He frotted against the plush arse as he grasped the base of Aziraphale’s erection, summoning a generous amount of soap to help his hand glide along the thick length, revelling in the sounds that this drew from heavenly lips. He gripped a plump, perfect hip with his other hand and increased his pace with both his thrusts and his strokes, sliding his cock along the cleft of the world’s most perfect backside, never noticing that his foot was blocking the drain. 

Who could notice such a stupid, mundane thing when they were quickly hammering their way to orgasm? He was close. He squeezed and pulled Aziraphale along, grinning like a madman when the angel gasped a puff of steam and came with a strangled cry. 

Aziraphale moaned and thrust back against Crowley, knocking him off balance. The demon’s foot slid against the slick tiles, and he scrabbled for purchase on something, anything! as he pitched backwards. His head connected forcefully with the shower fixture behind him and pain bloomed bright and red behind his eyes. His inhuman brain still managed to think _bollocks, I’m never getting off again, am I?_ before everything went black.

*****

  
  


Tuesday:

Today was going to be different. Today Crowley was going to take charge.

He stormed into the bookshop and snarled lurid threats at the customers until they all hurriedly left. Aziraphale pretended to be annoyed but when Crowley snapped, locking the door, flipping the closed sign and pulling the blinds, the angel blushed and smiled.

Crowley couldn’t get him into the back room fast enough. Two days of _‘coitus interruptus violenti’_ had culminated in a hard-on that would not quit. He wrestled with all the stuffy layers of clothing as he backed Aziraphale up against a shelf. This was fine. This would do. He dragged his tongue up the angel’s throat, twisting his fingers in soft curls to roughly pull his head to the side, exposing more throat to taste. Aziraphale groaned, blunt fingers already at work on Crowley’s belt. He was being careful and soft, but Crowley wanted fast and hard. He growled against Aziraphale’s neck, pulling him off the shelf before slamming him back into it.

“Oh!” the angel gasped. “Crowley, please mind the books!”

“Fuck the books,” Crowley snapped, covering Aziraphale’s mouth with his lips. He repeated the slam again, grinding his hips against the angel’s, interrupting his protest with a moan. Naughty angel liked it rough too. Crowley already knew this from being surprised in bed several times.

The third time he thrust Aziraphale into the shelf it was hard enough to knock several old volumes onto the floor. Crowley grinned against the flesh under his lips, loving every second of the lusty chaos, but Aziraphale summoned a bout of divine power and threw Crowley away from him so hard he sprawled across the back of the nearby couch, knocking it over. 

His chest ached with the fading holy energy. It wasn’t anything nearly strong enough to do him any real harm, but it was a definite fucking _warning._ He peeked over the overturned couch at the furious angel.

“Did you forget the safeword?” he asked, slightly bitter, more afraid.

“These are priceless rare volumes, Crowley!” Aziraphale ranted, gesturing at the old books he’d knocked over. Crowley winced. At least one of them had a cracked spine. He started to apologize but Aziraphale wasn’t done with his tirade. Crowley cowered behind the couch as the angel bickered and lectured and occasionally even swore at him. 

He fled the shop only to be stopped by a couple police officers waiting to ask him some questions about his prior threats against the customers. At least he wouldn’t be the only one having a terrible day. Those officers left with a nightmare that would follow them forever.

*****

  
  


Wednesday:

  
  


Aziraphale forgave Crowley at the mention of lunch at the Ritz. The meal was exquisite, the wine was perfect, and the piano music was romantic. The angel enjoyed everything, happily chatting about everything and nothing while Crowley shifted uncomfortably on his seat as always. 

They were in the Bentley, Crowley driving nowhere in particular while they decided what else to do with their day. He had suggested the British Museum, or visiting the park to sink some ducks. Aziraphale was quiet, thoughtful.

“Ngk,” Crowley grunted as deft fingers slid up his thigh and unzipped his jeans. 

“Eyes on the road, dear,” Aziraphale smirked, pulling his four-day-old erection from his jeans and leaning over his lap. Crowley groaned as a familiar wet heat enveloped him, starting with a soft suction and teasing swipes of tongue. Crowley felt it in his bones that this was a bad idea, but didn’t have the mental or emotional fortitude to stop it. It felt so good. It felt so fucking good. So So SO SO Goooood.

A fucking pillock up ahead made an illegal move trying to get onto the slip road causing several cars ahead of Crowley to brake hard. He hissed, slamming the brake down and swerving the Bentley to avoid the car in front. Aziraphale tensed in alarm, his teeth clenched.

“I told you I’m sorry,” Aziraphale pleaded, later at the flat. Crowley refused to look at him.

“I healed you! Good as new!” he continued. Crowley glared at the angel then until he finally gave up and left him to his pout.

*****

  
  


Thursday:

“Surely this is safe,” Aziraphale teased him when Crowley complained about his spate of rotten luck. “This” happened to be four of the angel’s slicked up fingers finally withdrawing from his arse. They were in Crowley’s study, the demon stretched out across the desk, shining with sweat. 

“Could fall off,” he groaned, missing those teasing fingers. Aziraphale tsked at him and before he knew it he was being lifted off the desk and settled on the floor below it. 

“Better?” Aziraphale laughed, lining himself up and slowly easing inside.

“Perfect,” Crowley sighed, arching his back in pleasure as the angel slowly bottomed out.

The pace was quick; Crowley all but demanded it. A hard fast fuck in hopes of bringing him off before something terrible happened. Aziraphale snapped his hips in a fury, pounding Crowley into the rug, his shoulder digging into the desk leg. Every thrust lit up Crowley’s nerves, stroked his prostate, lured him closer to release. 

Every thrust also shook the desk a bit. Crowley opened blurry eyes and looked up at the heavy marble bust, one of Brancusi’s sleeping muses, as it wobbled a little closer to the edge of the desk above him. He raised a weak hand, trying to miracle the blasted thing back into place, but his brain was on low battery, its focus firmly between his hips. Another two thrusts and it moved dangerously.

“Azirah— Ah! The— Ah!” he tried to warn his lover, beg for help, but his climax was too close and his mouth wouldn’t work. Crowley set his head down against the rug and watched the white marble wobble and shift then closed his eyes. _Whatever,_ he thought. _This is me now._ _Let it happen._ With any luck he would get to come before he got brained by early 20th century sculpture.

  
  


He did not.

*****

  
  


Friday:

  
  
  


“Crowley,” Aziraphale huffed, searching the flat for him. “This is dramatic, even for you.”

Crowley had sensed the angel coming and slipped into snake form. He was watching Aziraphale now from high up in a heating vent.

“You’re exaggerating, dear,” Aziraphale shouted. “The universe can’t actually be out to get you, Crowley. And if it was, I don't think it would use" and here he switched to a gruffer tone, badly mimicking the demon, "a ‘ _physically devastating stymieing strategy’_ to do it!"

Crowley glared down at the angel. Terrible paraphrasing, really. He hadn’t used the word “stymieing”. He’d called it what it bloody was. The universe was _cockblocking_ him using methods both egregious and mortifying.

Crowley slithered deeper into hiding and coiled himself up. He didn’t come out for hours after Aziraphale finally left.

*****

  
  
  


Saturday:

  
  


“I’m glad you came to your senses,” Aziraphale griped, standing outside Crowley’s front door. Crowley had invited him over after nearly ten hours of careful thought and preparation. “Are you going to let me in?”

“Nope, we’re going down the hall,” Crowley murmured, keeping his voice down in case the universe heard him. 

His new theory was that this shit was going to keep happening unless he could break the streak of bad luck. In order to do that, Crowley needed to have complete control over his environment. 

He all but dragged Aziraphale down the corridor until they came to another empty flat. Crowley let the angel in and smirked as Aziraphale took in his set up.

There was nothing in the room. The windows were bricked up, every single piece of furniture removed. Nothing but a wood laminate floor, polished to a shine. Nothing to fall on him. Nothing to startle him. Nothing, except Aziraphale. Crowley eyed the angel suspiciously while Azirphale was busy ruefully shaking his head at the room. Aziraphale couldn’t be trusted. Aziraphale was part of the universe's plot to destroy Crowley. 

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered. Aziraphale pursed his lips at the demand. 

“How romantic,” he muttered, shucking his jacket and handing it to Crowley. Every item of clothing was handed over one at a time so Crowley could fold it and set it aside far away in a corner. When Aziraphale was finally completely bare, Crowley circled him a few times, inspecting him, making sure he wasn’t trapped somehow. Aziraphale rolled his eyes but humoured him.

Satisfied, Crowley led the angel to the center of the room where four rings had been driven into the floor. These were the only variables that could cause an issue, but Crowley was content with the risk, since it meant Aziraphale (the greater threat) would be properly restrained. 

“Ah, the romance continues, I see,” Aziraphale sniped after Crowley told him to lie down then produced a length of black silk rope. Crowley ignored the sarcasm and waited for the angel to lie down and get as comfortable as he could on the cool hard floor. 

He tied one pale wrist down, stretching Aziraphale’s arm out to the side, before repeating it with the other. Satisfied with his knotwork, he moved to secure the angel’s ankles, looping the black rope through the rings on the floor.

“Ssstruggle,” he demanded, his lust and frustration making him hiss. “Try to essscape.”

Aziraphale gave a huff of annoyance, but complied. It was a cursory wiggle at first, but then he gave his arms and legs a few good yanks as well. Crowley nodded with satisfaction.

“Are the ressstraints all right?” he asked, his voice softer. He ran his fingers lightly over where the knots rubbed against tender skin. “Are they digging into you anywhere?”

“I’m not bothered by them, no,” Aziraphale assured him. “However, they _are_ simple ropes, Crowley. Checking their strength against my ‘struggling’ is pointless. I could miracle them away, or break them on my own if I chose to.”

“Then _don’t_ ,” Crowley ordered. He stared into widening blue eyes, silently trying to convey how badly he needed this. Aziraphale nodded quickly, pupils dilated, and wet his lips. Crowley noticed with a little smile how aroused the angel was at his simple, growled demand. 

This was, perhaps, a kink they shared. 

Crowley didn’t want to waste anymore time. He vanished his own clothing into a messy pile beside Aziraphale’s neatly folded stack. 

“You remember the words?” he questioned. “You remember how to stop this if you want to?”

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale sighed. “And I’m green, Love. You can do what you need to do.”

Crowley snorted, crouching by the angel’s feet. “I’ll try not to make it too much of an ordeal for you,” he smirked. Sky blue eyes watched him with interest, widening as Crowley reached behind himself and slowly loosened and removed the shallow plug he’d inserted earlier. He wasn’t leaving anything to chance. 

He dragged himself up Aziraphale’s stretched legs and licked a wet strip up the angel’s half-hard cock before taking it in his mouth and sucking it like his life depended on it. It might as well, he needed to come so badly part of him was convinced his life _did_ depend on this.

Aziraphale keened, his head thudding back onto the floor while Crowley worked his cock over, bringing it to full arousal. Crowley gave one last lick before he miracled some slick directly onto the blood red cock before him. 

Five minutes later he was fully seated on it, and moving like something possessed. He dug his fingernails into Aziraphale’s chest as he rode him hard, his head thrown back and his mouth open as he moaned. Aziraphale did his best to thrust up but it was hard going for the angel, bound as he was. Crowley used him, steadying himself with one hand as he ground his hips down and started to stroke himself with his spare hand. 

He was close. Fucking close. Don’t make a sound. Don’t tell the universe. He was almost there.

“Fucking Fuck fuck Fuck FUCK FUCK FUCK!” he screamed as his orgasm finally crashed through him, splintering his brain inside his skull with the intense fury of it. He came and he came and he came, coating Aziraphale’s chest in white, slamming down and grinding their hips together until he felt the hot pulse of the angel’s release fill him. 

Crowley gasped in a ragged breath, feeling suddenly light headed and braced himself with his hands on the floor on either side of Aziraphale’s heaving chest. 

“We should— keep this— room,” the angel panted, smiling like a drunk. Crowley collapsed beside him, freeing Aziraphale from his bonds with a careless snap.

“We definitely will,” he agreed, nuzzling Aziraphale’s damp hair. They slowly came down together like that, and Crowley felt the evil eye of the universe finally turn its gaze elsewhere and smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Betas Raechem, PinkPenguinParade, and Free_Smarcher


End file.
